No, [ he admits, shaking his head once. There's no desire for tactical advantage, no need to know more than she does, just... a desire to know her, and to understand, and to listen to her talk.
He besotted he knows. If Thor were here there'd be no end to the grins and the ribbing until the point his brother realized just how dangerous they could be together and then...
Ugh. Gods. He misses his brother, fine, but that is not the important part of any of this right now. ]
[ She gives him a knowing look, trying to push back that smile that his 'no' pulls out of her. He really is just so earnest. ]
I miss having all of time and space at my fingertips.
[ If she's honest. ]
But yes, music as well. It's so quiet in The Gallows. If I still could harness my magic I wonder if we could pull some of our memories and charm something to sing, like some of the gadgets I found in Val Chevin.
[ She gives him that look and he glances away, briefly, looking back towards her again as she continues to speak. He feels bad, a little, that she's stuck here instead of cavorting off through space and time. Enjoying herself. Part of that is his fault, maybe?
Maybe not? He's so unclear as to what happened last for her before she arrived in Thedas that it's difficult to determine where blame would fall if there was any blame to be had. ]
Mhm. I found a music box in Val Chevin, enchanted to play an entire orchestra when the box was opened. Not so quietly, actually. [ Loki shakes his head a little. It had startled the hell out of him at the time but he kept the box when no one else claimed it. Sure, it had a trapped spirit inside of it, but the spirit didn't seem to mind. ] Something like that would probably work.
[ It's fascinating to watch her become animated about something; Loki's eyes track the variations in her expression until his own eyebrows raise at her suggestion. ]
Through your enchantment? [ He blinks, considering, trying to remember what it felt like to have her in his head. ] I'd be willing to try it.
[ She licks her lips, shifting a little in her seat as she prepares to explain. ]
You haven't experienced this yet but...when we were in the void- I wasn't able to enchant this creature that prevented us from moving forward. I was able to show you how to enchant--or well-- helped you helped me enchant, through touch.
[ And she does touch him then, dropping her hand from the cushioned headrest to featherlight brush her fingers over his, before sliding in to interlace with his own. Her thumb lightly runs over the outside of his palm, eyes holding his. ]
I held your hand and it was like we were one of one being, one magic.
[ Sylvie really shouldn't be allowed to lick her lips, touch his hand, and say things like that in the confines of this carriage; Loki's mind immediately goes straight to bed, do not pass go, but probably collect $200 anyway. ]
Ah.
[ So it takes him a moment for the part of his brain that is minding what she's saying to fight with the rest of his brain currently overwrought with desire in order to squeeze some semblance of sense-making out of him. Because ah does not communicate much, even he's aware of that.
But she is holding his hand, and Loki is gentle in his hold in return, taking breaths of variable steadiness. ]
So you think... I could teach you to access your magic through the Fade, like this? [ He squeezes her hand and smirks a little, unable to help himself. ] I could think of less convoluted ways to become 'one being', you know.
[ Still. He doesn't want her to think he isn't taking this seriously, so he closes his eyes and tries to focus on magic. On the feeling of pulling it from the Fade instead of through himself, from his Æsir. It helps if he thinks of it like a living blanket, full of warm pockets of magic he just has to reach towards in order to bring anything forth.
The corners of the interior of the carriage begin to illuminate with soft green light before illusions of flowers that Loki has seen on rare occasions fill the area. ]
[ He really is just so sensitive, and it's honestly endearing. The way that his head completely empties the moment she touches him, the slackness to his mouth, and it's very easy to see where his mind goes.
It makes her warm in ways that weren't just related to the heat coming from his hand. His dirty joke makes her laugh once, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly despite her smile. ]
I do think so.
[ She's about to say And that could come later when he closes his eyes, and she can feel the pull of magic through their entwined fingers. Flowers fill the inside of the carriage and she laughs softly, once, just at the beauty of it and the trust that it shows. That he'll go on her hunch without question and so immediately.
It's probably a good thing his eyes are closed, because the way she looks at him then betrays exactly how deeply she feels for him.
Rather than say anything though she just shifts closer, placing her other hand over their intertwined ones, leaning forward as if both are in prayer as she closes her eyes and focuses as well. Focuses on that connection, the way the magic flows from him to her and back. The different flavor of it, vibrating at a different note, but just as sweet sounding.
It's easier for her since she had felt it before, the way to line up their seiðr so that it crackles like a live wire between them. It's more difficult because she's the empty one this time, needing to be filled, and she leans forward even more as she reaches for it, their foreheads bumping together.
There- right-- She touches the flow of it, and there's a soft intake of breath as it floods her as well. ]
[ It's a good thing that she's familiar with what they're doing because Loki thinks he could just as easily get entirely lost in this. This feeling like something within him was just doubled on itself, as though a thin gold line of power that runs through his soul found another that was almost exactly the same and wrapped itself around, entangled with it.
Loki is aware of her hands on his, her forehead against his own, the closeness of her lips, the warmth of her breath across his face. He's aware of the magic of the Fade running through both of them, inhales, exhales, pulls it closer. Warm and weird and shimmering but not wholly unfamiliar, not after six months of desperately trying to regain all his lost magic. The Fade feels... not alive, not exactly, but responsive to what they're doing. Aware.
He doesn't know the words for it, the alignment that Sylvie manages, the internal click of the moment when it seems as though the dam breaks. But he feels it, much like he both hears and feels her small breath in as it happens.
The light of the flowers inside the carriage increases, brightening at the periphery of his shut eyes, so he opens them just to find Sylvie there, eyes still shut, foreheads still touching albeit only ever so slightly. Loki tilts his head down a bit, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. It's a request for permission, though not aloud; anyone else and he probably would have just gone through with kissing them, but...
[ She almost lets it happen too, that thrum of magic so utterly intoxicating after weeks now without even a whisper of it. It makes her heart beat hard in her chest, only to feel it stutter when he moves and she can taste the sweetness of those pastries on his breath, his nose brushing hers. Sylvie tilts her chin up, her lips brushing his ever so softly, the contact electric.
Before they can go much further though the carriage hits a bump and their foreheads clonk together painfully as they're jostled completely to one side. That connection is broken as she's tossed almost into his lap, one hand pressing to her face as she squawks in pain and annoyance. ]
[ The problem with having a recently broken nose is that the moment there's any force applied to the tissues that are already swollen and repairing it hurts like a bitch. Which means that Loki's hands go two places; one, to settle at Sylvie's waist so that she doesn't tumble any further, and the second to his nose, which hurts so bad he just tilts his head back while cursing under his breath, bag of pastries now in the place where Sylvie was sitting.
There an apology yelled their way from the driver of the carriage, which Loki ignores in favor of suddenly laughing. The magic dissipated in a shower of green and gold sparks, the last fragments of which still cling to the inner corners of the carriage car, but he felt it, and it was... ]
That was fucking amazing, [ he tells her once the pain in his face has subsided to a point that he can actually speak without wanting to shriek. ] Not the falling part but the rest of it. [ It doesn't dismay him that she's currently in his lap, but he's willing to bet she won't stay there for long; before he can think about it for too long, though, his face begins to throb again. ] Ach, [ he tilts his head upwards. ] Why are humans so fucking breakable?
[ His reaction to having his nose bumped distracts her from everything else, even the way she's half sprawled in his lap, one of his hands on her waist. Sylvie just shifts, knees on either side of his hips as she just barely doesn't touch his face, wincing at his pain as if she could feel it through that now broken connection. ]
Are you alright--
[ And then he starts laughing and the magic pops into a million sparks of gold and green and the relief she feels that he's clearly ok makes her join in; a smattering of quiet chuckles that fade when he winces again and tilts back his head. She carefully smooths his hair back, pulling a face that's half amused, half concerned, her heart still flitting in her chest from the touch of magic...and his lips. ]
They do everything intensely and quickly, pain, life, and feeling. Quite annoying.
Their art is amazing, though, which I suppose is for likely the same reason. If you only have a handful of decades with which to leave a mark on the world you're in...
[ Her laughter was beautiful, he thinks, eyes going fond as she cards fingers through his hair. That kiss, as brief as it was? Also beautiful. Magical, even, and he smiles at the thought.
Sylvie hasn't stirred from his lap like he'd expected her to and he feels like it is too much to hope she'll remain, and yet. His hand is not moving until she does. Loki's breath comes out in soft pants, breathing through his mouth since his nose is still so sore. ]
It is very annoying, though.
[ He glances past her towards the window. They're almost at the lift for carriages to bypass the impossible stairs in Kirkwall's Hightown. ]
[ You are incredibly endearing yourself Loki, is what she wants to say, my favorite work of art. His hand is so hot through her clothing, and for a minute she just watches the way his lips part and move as he breathes through the pain.
Then he's looking out the window and talking and she probably should move- Lest she embarrass him socially somehow- and bites her bottom lip as she slides backwards across the bench back to her side. She almost sits on the bag of pastries, turning and tucking the back onto her lap instead. ]
So tell me, Mister full-of-questions, what is your favorite part of this world.
[ She reaches into the bag of pastries and pulls one at random, holding it out for him. ]
[ As she pulls away, biting her lip (unfair, his brain screams at him, the desire to kiss so strong that he takes in a sharp breath to calm it), his hand remains at her hip until the last possible moment, fingertips brushing against the fabric of her pants as she sits across from him. ]
That's true, [ he says, possibly too many moments after her statement. But she's holding out a pastry to him, something fragrant and smelling of butter and roses, and he leans forward to take a bite of it without taking the foodstuffs from her hand, like a normal person surely. ]
Mm. [ Excuse him, he's eating, just give him a moment... ] I don't know, actually. [ There's a crumb in the corner of his mouth he can feel but can't see, and he tries to lick it away to no avail. Oh well. ]
I like the people. Mostly other Rifters, if I'm being honest. Though, Wycome was fascinating, and Val Royeaux is rather pretty, architecturally and aesthetically, but there's some places outside of cities that are just... they're calm, and beautiful. I suppose I like them the best, of all the places.
[ It absolutely occurs to her in that small logical part of her mind that is always thinking ahead, weighing risks and reward and keeping track of how much time she has left (an anxiety that no longer has purpose really, as there is no deadline anymore. No need to move, and yet still she finds herself reaching for that non-existent tempad in moments of panic borne of a millenia on the run), as she watches the way he leans forward and takes a bite of the pastry, the food at the corner of his mouth, the way he tries to clear it; if that pull is this strong to take his face in her hands and kiss him until nothing else matters while in the relative public of this carriage, going into his apartment to bathe, alone, with him was probably a terrible idea.
A terrible idea due to his entanglements and her strange hesitation to solidify something when he had only part of the story of course, not because she thinks that if something happened that it would be terrible. No, it'd probably be the exact opposite, but something she really shouldn't be thinking about.
Sylvie reaches out and thumbs that distracting crumb free, fingertips running along the line of his jaw feather light as she tries to break that train of thought, her face purposely neutral. ]
You seem well traveled for such a short time here, and with the slowness of the modes of transport. I'd like to see those spots some day.
[ The... conflict, perhaps, of her expression and the brief gentleness of her touch to clear away the crumbs at the corner of his mouth cause his stomach to do a few small flips. He wonders what it is she's masking from him, with that; if she's upset about something, or remembering something that she doesn't want him to question her about. He wants to know, not only because he's quite possibly the nosiest man in Thedas who isn't a spy at this rate, but because he wants to convince her that it doesn't matter. Whatever she's afraid of, whatever she's remembering. They have now; that's the important part.
He isn't going anywhere.
So his expression is a little fond, a little bemused. ]
I wanted to prove my usefulness, which meant signing up for various tasks and quests. Also, Kirkwall is very...dour; the Gallows, doubly-so in my opinion. [ He gives a little shrug. ] Horses I'm familiar with; anyway. They don't have pegasi, and the griffons smell terrible. I took a boat to Antiva City.
[ She finishes the pastry Loki started then, smiling a little as she settles back against the seat again as she listens to him recount his likes and dislikes of the place. ]
The Gallows is dour, as soon as I have the funds I intend to move out of it. But Kirkwall can't be all bad. I imagine where we're going is nice and hoity-toity for how long it's taking us to get there.
I could help with that, [ he offers immediately, because it's not like he's paying rent. Besides, between his winnings on the betting pool from the Grand Tourney, the trip to Wycome, and saving the bit of money they get from Riftwatch it's not like he's hurting for coin. ] If— well. I would like to. If you'd be willing to let me.
[ Alternatively, he could buy her, say, furniture or something else expensive. The possibilities are endless. ]
Anyway, ah...the de la Fontaine apartments in Hightown are where we're going, in case you need directions some other day. The architecture is a sight less brutal than the rest of the neighborhood; makes it easy to spot when you're walking.
I don't want to take your charity Loki. Or your girlfriend's money.
[ That definitely was the wrong thing to say, Her tone going a bit icy as she turns to look out the window again. looking for the difference in architecture. It's a bit hypocritical when she's literally taking his food, his ride, and his hot water-- but that's a one time thing.
Wh— it's not her money, [ Loki starts, and then makes a negating gesture with his hand, shaking his head. ] Nevermind. You've stated your preference.
[ He'd said 'if you were willing to let me' and she's obviously not willing to let him, so he has to let it go. Right? Otherwise, they're going to end up arguing over something stupid, or she's going to think that he doesn't believe she's capable of managing for herself, and he just.
He'd rather cut that off at the pass. Like, now-ish. He'd definitely like to help, but as the many gods of many worlds know, as much as he'd like to spoil her immensely, he won't do it if she's going to resent him for it.
Stopping himself from sighing petulantly, Loki leans back a little, gaze now refocused towards the city out of the window. ] There, [ he says, pointing to a building with white brick instead of grey, with curves at the edges instead of sharp corners, with blue moulding and gold filigree. ] We've arrived.
[ The carriage shudders to a stop and the driver hops down to open the door on Sylvie's side. ]
[ She gives him a look over her shoulder, watching him shaking his head, her words succinct. It is hers though isn't it? A few months surely isn't enough to amass such a fortune on his own to afford...this.
And it is something to refer to as this, the building they stop in front of, clearly artful in taste and visibly expensive. So far above the rabble of the lower streets. The driver opens the carriage door and Sylvie steps out onto the street, noting immediately the difference in the air. Significantly cleaner and fresher than the lower levels of the city.
For how little she wanted to take anything from the woman Loki has found here, even through proxy, she has to admit that this place fits him. He still is the image of a prince...she lost that title too long ago for it to matter. ]
[ Loki climbs out on the opposite side of the carriage, grabbing the bag of pastries and sweets, paying the driver when the man comes around, and then pulling a key out from his pocket to unlock the front door for Sylvie. ]
Let me know if you change your mind, [ he says after a moment, before he opens the door.
The foyer beyond it is full of light streaming in from as many windows as the walls could stand; some of them face the ocean and a few face the rest of the city. There's a rounded staircase at the end leading to a second floor, and a door to the left leads to a room of books and chairs. There's a kitchen on the opposite end, but Loki gestures towards the stairs as he follows her inside. ]
[ She doesn't acknowledge it, that reminder, and she's sure her silence on the topic is as clear as any words would be. She could manage herself just fine, and has never had need of the trappings of luxury. Though this place is something to admire, clean and light and well designed, it speaks of old money and wealth. Reminiscent of places she's only seen in ruins or, in the vaguest memories, Asgard. It makes her feel more than a little out of place.
But then Loki is motioning towards the stairs and she steps to the side to let him lead the way. ]
Certainly a step up from the gallows. Did you pick the drapes or...?
No, [ Loki replies, shaking his head a little as he passes her. ] Alexandrie had a friend living here, who returned to the frontlines before I arrived. I haven't touched the stylings, really; I spend most of my coin on clothes, books, and various foodstuffs.
[ He likes Alexandrie's taste in decor, for one thing, and doesn't see why he should spend his money to fix things that aren't exactly broken. But he notes the way that Sylvie looks at it all and sighs, a little. She'd probably be more comfortable in Lowtown, which leads him to wonder if that's where she'll go, once she leaves the Gallows.
(The idea that she'd stay there, surrounded by all those people, doesn't take root. They are too similar for all of that.)
They climb the stairs where there's another series of rooms: a bedroom with an attached bathroom is where they're headed, and so Loki makes a beeline for it. There are some things set out already, bottles of various kinds with labels and written instructions on how to use them (most of which say, simply, add to hot water), heavy towels, a bathrobe, all off to the side atop of a nearby dresser. In the middle of the bathroom is the tub; large and clawfooted.
There's also a privacy screen blocking half of it from view of the door. ]
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He besotted he knows. If Thor were here there'd be no end to the grins and the ribbing until the point his brother realized just how dangerous they could be together and then...
Ugh. Gods. He misses his brother, fine, but that is not the important part of any of this right now. ]
Just curious, I suppose.
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I miss having all of time and space at my fingertips.
[ If she's honest. ]
But yes, music as well. It's so quiet in The Gallows. If I still could harness my magic I wonder if we could pull some of our memories and charm something to sing, like some of the gadgets I found in Val Chevin.
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Maybe not? He's so unclear as to what happened last for her before she arrived in Thedas that it's difficult to determine where blame would fall if there was any blame to be had. ]
Mhm. I found a music box in Val Chevin, enchanted to play an entire orchestra when the box was opened. Not so quietly, actually. [ Loki shakes his head a little. It had startled the hell out of him at the time but he kept the box when no one else claimed it. Sure, it had a trapped spirit inside of it, but the spirit didn't seem to mind. ] Something like that would probably work.
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I'd like to see it. I'm sure there's some kind of trick that we can reproduce other than trapping anything inside.
[ And that brings up another point. ]
You said you have access to your magic, I've been thinking... maybe you could show me how you access it through the fade.
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[ It's fascinating to watch her become animated about something; Loki's eyes track the variations in her expression until his own eyebrows raise at her suggestion. ]
Through your enchantment? [ He blinks, considering, trying to remember what it felt like to have her in his head. ] I'd be willing to try it.
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[ She licks her lips, shifting a little in her seat as she prepares to explain. ]
You haven't experienced this yet but...when we were in the void- I wasn't able to enchant this creature that prevented us from moving forward. I was able to show you how to enchant--or well-- helped you helped me enchant, through touch.
[ And she does touch him then, dropping her hand from the cushioned headrest to featherlight brush her fingers over his, before sliding in to interlace with his own. Her thumb lightly runs over the outside of his palm, eyes holding his. ]
I held your hand and it was like we were one of one being, one magic.
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Ah.
[ So it takes him a moment for the part of his brain that is minding what she's saying to fight with the rest of his brain currently overwrought with desire in order to squeeze some semblance of sense-making out of him. Because ah does not communicate much, even he's aware of that.
But she is holding his hand, and Loki is gentle in his hold in return, taking breaths of variable steadiness. ]
So you think... I could teach you to access your magic through the Fade, like this? [ He squeezes her hand and smirks a little, unable to help himself. ] I could think of less convoluted ways to become 'one being', you know.
[ Still. He doesn't want her to think he isn't taking this seriously, so he closes his eyes and tries to focus on magic. On the feeling of pulling it from the Fade instead of through himself, from his Æsir. It helps if he thinks of it like a living blanket, full of warm pockets of magic he just has to reach towards in order to bring anything forth.
The corners of the interior of the carriage begin to illuminate with soft green light before illusions of flowers that Loki has seen on rare occasions fill the area. ]
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It makes her warm in ways that weren't just related to the heat coming from his hand. His dirty joke makes her laugh once, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly despite her smile. ]
I do think so.
[ She's about to say And that could come later when he closes his eyes, and she can feel the pull of magic through their entwined fingers. Flowers fill the inside of the carriage and she laughs softly, once, just at the beauty of it and the trust that it shows. That he'll go on her hunch without question and so immediately.
It's probably a good thing his eyes are closed, because the way she looks at him then betrays exactly how deeply she feels for him.
Rather than say anything though she just shifts closer, placing her other hand over their intertwined ones, leaning forward as if both are in prayer as she closes her eyes and focuses as well. Focuses on that connection, the way the magic flows from him to her and back. The different flavor of it, vibrating at a different note, but just as sweet sounding.
It's easier for her since she had felt it before, the way to line up their seiðr so that it crackles like a live wire between them. It's more difficult because she's the empty one this time, needing to be filled, and she leans forward even more as she reaches for it, their foreheads bumping together.
There- right-- She touches the flow of it, and there's a soft intake of breath as it floods her as well. ]
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Loki is aware of her hands on his, her forehead against his own, the closeness of her lips, the warmth of her breath across his face. He's aware of the magic of the Fade running through both of them, inhales, exhales, pulls it closer. Warm and weird and shimmering but not wholly unfamiliar, not after six months of desperately trying to regain all his lost magic. The Fade feels... not alive, not exactly, but responsive to what they're doing. Aware.
He doesn't know the words for it, the alignment that Sylvie manages, the internal click of the moment when it seems as though the dam breaks. But he feels it, much like he both hears and feels her small breath in as it happens.
The light of the flowers inside the carriage increases, brightening at the periphery of his shut eyes, so he opens them just to find Sylvie there, eyes still shut, foreheads still touching albeit only ever so slightly. Loki tilts his head down a bit, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. It's a request for permission, though not aloud; anyone else and he probably would have just gone through with kissing them, but...
Sylvie is different. ]
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Before they can go much further though the carriage hits a bump and their foreheads clonk together painfully as they're jostled completely to one side. That connection is broken as she's tossed almost into his lap, one hand pressing to her face as she squawks in pain and annoyance. ]
Shit! Who taught you how to drive!
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There an apology yelled their way from the driver of the carriage, which Loki ignores in favor of suddenly laughing. The magic dissipated in a shower of green and gold sparks, the last fragments of which still cling to the inner corners of the carriage car, but he felt it, and it was... ]
That was fucking amazing, [ he tells her once the pain in his face has subsided to a point that he can actually speak without wanting to shriek. ] Not the falling part but the rest of it. [ It doesn't dismay him that she's currently in his lap, but he's willing to bet she won't stay there for long; before he can think about it for too long, though, his face begins to throb again. ] Ach, [ he tilts his head upwards. ] Why are humans so fucking breakable?
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Are you alright--
[ And then he starts laughing and the magic pops into a million sparks of gold and green and the relief she feels that he's clearly ok makes her join in; a smattering of quiet chuckles that fade when he winces again and tilts back his head. She carefully smooths his hair back, pulling a face that's half amused, half concerned, her heart still flitting in her chest from the touch of magic...and his lips. ]
They do everything intensely and quickly, pain, life, and feeling. Quite annoying.
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[ Her laughter was beautiful, he thinks, eyes going fond as she cards fingers through his hair. That kiss, as brief as it was? Also beautiful. Magical, even, and he smiles at the thought.
Sylvie hasn't stirred from his lap like he'd expected her to and he feels like it is too much to hope she'll remain, and yet. His hand is not moving until she does. Loki's breath comes out in soft pants, breathing through his mouth since his nose is still so sore. ]
It is very annoying, though.
[ He glances past her towards the window. They're almost at the lift for carriages to bypass the impossible stairs in Kirkwall's Hightown. ]
We'll be there soon.
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[ You are incredibly endearing yourself Loki, is what she wants to say, my favorite work of art. His hand is so hot through her clothing, and for a minute she just watches the way his lips part and move as he breathes through the pain.
Then he's looking out the window and talking and she probably should move- Lest she embarrass him socially somehow- and bites her bottom lip as she slides backwards across the bench back to her side. She almost sits on the bag of pastries, turning and tucking the back onto her lap instead. ]
So tell me, Mister full-of-questions, what is your favorite part of this world.
[ She reaches into the bag of pastries and pulls one at random, holding it out for him. ]
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That's true, [ he says, possibly too many moments after her statement. But she's holding out a pastry to him, something fragrant and smelling of butter and roses, and he leans forward to take a bite of it without taking the foodstuffs from her hand, like a normal person surely. ]
Mm. [ Excuse him, he's eating, just give him a moment... ] I don't know, actually. [ There's a crumb in the corner of his mouth he can feel but can't see, and he tries to lick it away to no avail. Oh well. ]
I like the people. Mostly other Rifters, if I'm being honest. Though, Wycome was fascinating, and Val Royeaux is rather pretty, architecturally and aesthetically, but there's some places outside of cities that are just... they're calm, and beautiful. I suppose I like them the best, of all the places.
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A terrible idea due to his entanglements and her strange hesitation to solidify something when he had only part of the story of course, not because she thinks that if something happened that it would be terrible. No, it'd probably be the exact opposite, but something she really shouldn't be thinking about.
Sylvie reaches out and thumbs that distracting crumb free, fingertips running along the line of his jaw feather light as she tries to break that train of thought, her face purposely neutral. ]
You seem well traveled for such a short time here, and with the slowness of the modes of transport. I'd like to see those spots some day.
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He isn't going anywhere.
So his expression is a little fond, a little bemused. ]
I wanted to prove my usefulness, which meant signing up for various tasks and quests. Also, Kirkwall is very...dour; the Gallows, doubly-so in my opinion. [ He gives a little shrug. ] Horses I'm familiar with; anyway. They don't have pegasi, and the griffons smell terrible. I took a boat to Antiva City.
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The Gallows is dour, as soon as I have the funds I intend to move out of it. But Kirkwall can't be all bad. I imagine where we're going is nice and hoity-toity for how long it's taking us to get there.
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[ Alternatively, he could buy her, say, furniture or something else expensive. The possibilities are endless. ]
Anyway, ah...the de la Fontaine apartments in Hightown are where we're going, in case you need directions some other day. The architecture is a sight less brutal than the rest of the neighborhood; makes it easy to spot when you're walking.
[ He glances past her out the window. ]
We're almost there.
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[ That definitely was the wrong thing to say, Her tone going a bit icy as she turns to look out the window again. looking for the difference in architecture. It's a bit hypocritical when she's literally taking his food, his ride, and his hot water-- but that's a one time thing.
A one time thing. ]
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[ He'd said 'if you were willing to let me' and she's obviously not willing to let him, so he has to let it go. Right? Otherwise, they're going to end up arguing over something stupid, or she's going to think that he doesn't believe she's capable of managing for herself, and he just.
He'd rather cut that off at the pass. Like, now-ish. He'd definitely like to help, but as the many gods of many worlds know, as much as he'd like to spoil her immensely, he won't do it if she's going to resent him for it.
Stopping himself from sighing petulantly, Loki leans back a little, gaze now refocused towards the city out of the window. ] There, [ he says, pointing to a building with white brick instead of grey, with curves at the edges instead of sharp corners, with blue moulding and gold filigree. ] We've arrived.
[ The carriage shudders to a stop and the driver hops down to open the door on Sylvie's side. ]
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[ She gives him a look over her shoulder, watching him shaking his head, her words succinct. It is hers though isn't it? A few months surely isn't enough to amass such a fortune on his own to afford...this.
And it is something to refer to as this, the building they stop in front of, clearly artful in taste and visibly expensive. So far above the rabble of the lower streets. The driver opens the carriage door and Sylvie steps out onto the street, noting immediately the difference in the air. Significantly cleaner and fresher than the lower levels of the city.
For how little she wanted to take anything from the woman Loki has found here, even through proxy, she has to admit that this place fits him. He still is the image of a prince...she lost that title too long ago for it to matter. ]
It is nice.
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Let me know if you change your mind, [ he says after a moment, before he opens the door.
The foyer beyond it is full of light streaming in from as many windows as the walls could stand; some of them face the ocean and a few face the rest of the city. There's a rounded staircase at the end leading to a second floor, and a door to the left leads to a room of books and chairs. There's a kitchen on the opposite end, but Loki gestures towards the stairs as he follows her inside. ]
Bathtub is this way.
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But then Loki is motioning towards the stairs and she steps to the side to let him lead the way. ]
Certainly a step up from the gallows. Did you pick the drapes or...?
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[ He likes Alexandrie's taste in decor, for one thing, and doesn't see why he should spend his money to fix things that aren't exactly broken. But he notes the way that Sylvie looks at it all and sighs, a little. She'd probably be more comfortable in Lowtown, which leads him to wonder if that's where she'll go, once she leaves the Gallows.
(The idea that she'd stay there, surrounded by all those people, doesn't take root. They are too similar for all of that.)
They climb the stairs where there's another series of rooms: a bedroom with an attached bathroom is where they're headed, and so Loki makes a beeline for it. There are some things set out already, bottles of various kinds with labels and written instructions on how to use them (most of which say, simply, add to hot water), heavy towels, a bathrobe, all off to the side atop of a nearby dresser. In the middle of the bathroom is the tub; large and clawfooted.
There's also a privacy screen blocking half of it from view of the door. ]
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